Lilliana Snape (Book Four)

Part 15

The first thing my mind seemed to be able to process was ‘I’m dead...my dad is going to kill me!’ But then, I thought, if I was dead then why was someone shouting?

‘There should have been more security! For God’s sake, Albus, she was poisoned!’

 

‘The champions knew that the dragons weren’t safe, Severus, her wounds aren’t life threatening and I expect-’

 

‘Aren’t life threatening?’ The first voice boomed back in unmistakeable anger ‘the Matron said that she could be blind!’

 

I squeezed my eyes tight, groaning at the raised voices before opening my eyes to see that Ron, Harry, Hermione and Fred were sat around me with their heads cocked toward the voices. “What’s going on?” I asked, irritated.

My friends turned to me. “You’re awake!” Hermione exclaimed “how are you feeling?”

“Not blind or anything?” Fred asked with a smirk.

“No” I frowned “why?”

“Well, your dad is pretty annoyed that your dragon spat poison in your face” Ron stated.

I blinked at Ron “what are you doing here? I thought that you believed everyone else when they didn’t believe Harry.”

He shrugged still looking a bit guilty “I finally saw sense.”

“Took you long enough” I growled. I had no idea where my bad mood had come from but it didn’t feel like it was going to disappear any time soon.

“Good, you’re awake” the matron said as she bustled in “how are you feeling?”

I opened my mouth to speak but Ron got there first “she’s in a really bad mood.” I glared at him.

“Hmm, yes, it’s an uncommon side effect; you should feel better soon but until you do, I suggest that you stay away from anyone that might set you off.”

“So can I go now?” I asked impatiently.

“Yes, you may.”

We’d been sitting in a tent which had been erected as a temporary first aid station. Harry informed me that Cedric had been treated for burns, Harry for cuts and me for having poison spat at me. He then went on to tell me that he’d scored 40 (10 from Bagman, 9 from Dumbledore and Crouch, 8 from Madame Maxime and a 4 from Karkaroff) and that I’d scored 35 (9 from Dumbledore and Crouch, 6 from Bagman, 7 from Maxime and another 4 from Karkaroff). Marks had been taken off for injuries and Karkaroff was just being biased toward his own champion.

“Not bad” Fred grinned as he passed me my egg “for someone who got spat at.”

I hit him playfully before taking my prize and shook my head but said nothing as we stepped outside and saw that dad and Dumbledore were still talking.